


The Green

by MadameGiry25



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dreams, Friendship, Gen, Lullabies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameGiry25/pseuds/MadameGiry25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the strain of being a leader is too much. Aragorn seeks out comfort as his mind refuses to allow him any peace after Moria. Gift!fic for reminiscient-afterthought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Green

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a gift for the lovely reminiscent-afterthought, as a prize for being a winner in the Reviews Lounge, Too Green Room challenge. Enjoy, my dear!

He should sleep while he has the chance.

While he knows this, he cannot bring himself to close his eyes, to relax his battle-hard muscles. Too long has he been on the trail. Too long has he been on the alert, ready for anything that harsh reality will throw at him.

As he stretches out on the forest floor next to the gently flickering fire, he senses Boromir's eyes on him, as though he knows better than to assume that the Ranger will simply go to sleep. And while he would love to be able to rest, there is a part of his mind that simply will not allow such a thing to happen. So he lies there, outwardly still and serene; inwardly, he is writhing, for it seems too unnatural to rest after all that has happened.

Gimli's soft breathing next to him and the popping of the fire are the only sounds that he registers. Unconsciously, he reaches his hands together, rubbing away at dried goblin blood that refuses to come off. He chastises himself for these sentiments, knowing that the journey has only just begun; the battle in the mines was a mere precursor to what they would surely discover in Mordor. He had not yet allowed himself to grieve properly for the loss of their comrade, for he knew that it was far too dangerous to do so with the fellowship in such a delicate state. They needed their leader to be strong, and he would do everything he could to make sure that their needs are met.

He doesn't know how long he has been lying here. The same thoughts progress through his head over and over again, preventing any form of sleep. In the end, he knows that he must face the truth: he will not sleep this night. His mind is too damaged by what he saw in the mines.

He sits up, running a hand across the rough surface of his bearded chin. Boromir's eyes are still upon him, but he pays them no heed. He stands and makes his way over to where the young Hobbits rest, as though going for a drink of water from the stream that ran near their camp. Or perchance a simple walk to clear the ghosts of Gandalf from his mind.

A walk is his intention, but he is stopped in his tracks when he realizes that one of the Hobbits is not sleeping as peacefully as first glance would have told him. The dark night makes it difficult to make out a face, but he realizes that it is Pippin. The little one is groaning softly in his sleep, his face pinched as though in fear, and his limbs moving about and fighting off some attacker. The other Hobbits are far enough away from him that they do not wake, but it is obvious that Pippin has moved about so much in his sleep that he has carried himself some distance from his companions.

After a moment's thought, he kneels down on the ground next to Pippin, though he is not entirely certain why he is doing so. One hand passes over the Hobbit's face, gently grabbing his arm in a gesture of comfort. And as his grip appears to comfort Pippin, he allows himself to smile. He looks over his shoulder to see if Boromir still watches, and he does not. His gaze returns to Pippin, and he closes his eyes as he allows memory to overcome his features.

"Rest your head, my little one,

Bring down the moon and the stars,

Let the light clothe you, child,

And know that you are always mine."

It is his voice, but they are the words of Celebrían that sing Pippin to sleep. Her lullaby, the one that she loved to sing to him, tumbles from his lips. It was one that she had created just for him, not from the books of old. And when he closes his eyes now, he can feel her presence, feel her along with his beloved father. What they had shared…

"Feel the smile, my darling,

Feel the cloak of protection,

Let the light of my love hold you,

And know that you are always mine."

And as the words register in Pippin's ears, he can see a smile forming on the Hobbit's face as he relaxes into sleep once more. And there they remain, his hand still wrapped around Pippin's arm. Remembering why he remains with this fellowship, why he has sworn to protect them. And as his mind quiets, he is not quite aware of the relaxation of his muscles.

As Boromir looks over, he sees the Ranger and the Hobbit asleep on the forest floor. And with that, he too smiles. His attention turns back to the forest around them, but a part of him lingers.


End file.
